


a little more perfect than before

by crushanlon



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst? Yes, F/M, M/M, a mix of plot from a friend and projection, an underrated concept, and vivid descriptions of panic attacks and depressive episodes, bill is„ meanish ¿?¿ like he used to be an ass, but isnt anymore, by me, genderfluid!eddie, i made sonia halfway decent oops, if you dont like angst Do Not Read This, lmao enjoy i guess, onto eddie, rare updates cause i’m a depressed thot, tw: trans and homophobic slurs, written by an Actual gender fluid person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushanlon/pseuds/crushanlon
Summary: eddie kaspbrak has never felt good about himself.most days, he feels like a ghost trapped in his own skin, being forced to watch as the vessel he sees in the mirror says the wrong thing, again and again. most days, he feels like garbage.and one day he makes a mistake. a huge, fuckload of a mistake.though, maybe that mistake wasn’t all bad.





	1. richie; the baffoon

eddie kaspbrak doesn’t know how to be right.   
  
for as long as he can remember, he’s always felt incorrect. sure, there were a few days where he could breathe, where he was okay, but honestly those were few and far between.

 

and it didn’t help that he had never been able to exist properly. sure, everyone got shy every once in a while, but it honestly felt like there was an entity constantly holding him back. like every time he tried to be like everyone else, everytime he tried to be _normal,_ he was shoved onto a stage where he had to perform a 5 act play he’d never heard of, and the only people in the audience were hecklers.

 

every single person he faced was a heckler.

 

no exceptions.

 

hell, he’d stare at himself in the mirror, and heckle all his body parts for some flaw that wasn’t all that prominent in reality.

 

it felt like all his life, he was plummeting; on a neverending freefall into the inky black depths of his mind. but the thing that they never tell you about falling? it gets comforting. people won’t last forever, but this feeling will. the falling will be here forever when everyone you’ve ever cared for leaves you.

 

for as long as he could remember, he’s hated his body. it was either too flat for him, or not flat enough. too angular, or not angular enough. too curvy, or not curvy enough. never enough.

 

and he would try to compensate, by sneaking in skirts to wear by himself in the dead of night, or stealing his mothers (tacky and disgusting) makeup to wear; make his cheekbones as pronounced as possible, make his eyes pop as much as he could. beauty tutorials were useful as fuck.

 

and sometimes he would wear a suit so debonaire that it just about made up for the way his legs were too feminine, his arms too skinny. he loved the way makeup looked with it.

 

but by far his favourite thing was nail polish.

 

it was so trivial and unnoticeable that it was almost invisible, and a few times he got away with wearing it in public (though he always made sure to bring a bottle of remover in his bag). it made him feel grounded to look at, to do; nothing made him happier.

 

and that’s what made sobbing and shaking and spilling the nail polish remover on the schools bathroom floor so absolutely fucking miserable.

 

honestly, he should’ve expected this. he shouldn’t’ve tried to get away with nail polish, not today.

 

and he would’ve stayed home again, but his mom was having his aunts over today and he’d rather not spend the day desperately trying to erase the sound of their laughing with music at full volume because even his _mom_ has a better social life than him. so he pulled his shit together and went today.

 

the problem was, he didn’t take off his nail polish from last night. he knew it was still there, but he’d done it a few times in the past, why should today be different? and even then, this was his favourite shade; a maroon so deep, a part of him thought it held the deepest secrets of the universe.

 

man, he was a fucking dumbass.

 

the school day started off pretty normal: nobody talked to him, he got looks he could only perceive as judging and rude, and he couldn’t focus in any class because people were with him.

 

but then lunch period rolled around.

 

now, he never fucking ate in the cafeteria. he always went down to the english room, cause nobody else was there. it was just him and a teacher he actually liked. it usually got him to feel okay again.

 

but he only got five steps into the cafeteria to get some fucking food before applesauce was getting thrown his way.

 

he managed to dodge the main blow (barely) but it ricocheted and he still got covered in the slop.

 

“oh shit, dude! we missed the _tranny!”_ someone in the mass shouted, obviously meant for eddie to hear.

 

the hundreds of people were laughing, hating, judging him. he could feel the tears that were welling up, but he absolutely would never fucking let them see him cry. he wouldn’t let himself do that.

 

“what the fuck did you just call me?” he whispered. he couldn’t yell.

 

“nice nails, _faggot!”_ another disembodied voice shouted.

 

before he could let his feet stop, he was running. running as fast as he could. and he was crying, and no matter how hard he was running and no matter how fast and no matter how far he got he could still hear them laughing and calling him _tranny_ and _fag_ and _he couldn’t escape and they were coming after him and it was all coming down and they knew they knew they knew they knew they knew-_

 

and then he was at the farthest possible bathroom from the cafeteria (3rd floor, west wing) and having the worst panic attack of his life. and the only thoughts he could comprehend were that he was weak. he was so weak that he couldn’t handle this. that he couldn’t tough it out. that he was _so fucking sensitive._

 

he got the nail polish remover from his bag, still shaking, and started to pull hordes of paper towels from the dispenser. wetting them with the remover, he started trying to take it off, but his hand was shaking so bad he couldn’t apply actual pressure, and so he got angry. he ripped up all the towels, and threw the bottle at the wall, instantly regretting it. he punched himself in the arm so many times he felt the bruise forming, and it was gonna fucking last.

 

he ran over to where the pungent liquid had spilled, desperately trying to get it all with the paper towels. but he was sobbing so much, he couldn’t tell the remover from water and piss. the familiar feeling of _incorrect_ was bubbling at the bottom of his stomach at this point, slowly crawling to his throat, burning it as it went. the pit was forming again, sucking up his heart and stomach and everything until there was only the fire in his esophagus. he was no longer a human, just a vessel made for stealing others souls just like him.

 

and then he realised – his entire body was numb. he frantically tried to dig his nails into his skin, but he felt nothing. he started wheezing, he _couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t feel and he could still hear them shouting after him with all the names in the book and this is just his punishment for being different i deserve this i deserve this i deserve this i deserve this i deserve this i deserve-_

 

and then his worst nightmare happened. the bathroom door opened _._

 

he still couldn’t see well, so the shape of the person was just a tall blob. they had dark hair and black clothes, and something thick and large and dark where their eyes are supposed to be. he wiped at his own eyes, and the figure became clearer.

 

eddie'd seen him around before – with beverly marsh, and stanley uris. there were a few others too, ben hanscom and mike hanlon, but they only seemed to be there when it was the five of them. he usually wore all black, but sometimes he wore these ugly ass hawaiian shirts that looked like they came straight from a recently-divorced-forty-year-old-tourist-in-the-midst-of-a-midlife-crisis’ suitcase. and he was pretty hot, from what he’d seen on the days he’d been there. the only thing that made him a little off put was that he had made a lot of fucking gay jokes before. he was rumoured to be gay himself, but eddie really did not want to risk it  (that and the usual round of self-doubt/hatred based on that he _already had friends and didn’t need eddie cause nobody fucking needed eddie or even wanted him he was so fucking useless-)._ his name was richie tozier.

 

“l-l-look, i-if yo-you’re ju-just gonna c-call me _‘tr-tranny’_ li-like everyone el-se, i’m r-really n-not interested.” eddie still couldn’t breathe, so it was honestly a mystery why the _fuck_ he decided to try and talk out loud. shame for even thinking of speaking filled his gut.

 

“woah, buckaroo. you okay there?” richie knelt down to get closer to where eddie was hiding in the corner of the room, back to the wall. to his left were the sinks and to his right were the stalls. why he didn’t try going into a stall, or at least under the sinks, was another mystery yet to be solved. but there was something next to the pit, somehow not sucked up, that made him want to be closer and closer to this essential strangers side. he willed it into the pit, or at least tried to, but he was still drawn to richie. “i come in peace.”

 

of course, the one time we _wants_ to be an empty fucking vessel, he can’t be. because emotions suck.

 

“w-what the fuck does it look like?” and _there it is._ when the pit sucked up all his insides, he was a fucking bed and breakfast for demons. he became cold, unnervingly emotionless – it was a talent he’d perfected over the years, teaching himself how to make no one even _bother_ with him. it’s less hurt in the end. he put all his energy into hardening his face, shoving all panic to the side. he suddenly stopped shaking, except for his hands. but it was too late. richie already saw him short of breath, convulsing with fear, spiraling into an episode that would last for a ridiculous amount of time. his longest to date had been two months.

 

“settle down there, partner,” eddie put up the prison bars behind his eyes, shutting them off of all emotion. he was a demon now, no use helping him, though this idiot didn’t seem to get the memo. but it did help just that little bit when richie didn’t go running when he saw eddie sobbing and wheezing dramatically, or when he was needlessly rude. but there _had_ to be a catch. this was a prank or something, cute boys didn't help pathetic heaps of panic like eddie. “i saw what those bigoted assfucks did to you. and then you ran off, and i wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

 

and there it was. _the catch._ he was just trying to make sure eddie didn’t jump out the fucking window and onto the mob of teachers cars below.

 

“how come i haven’t seen you around before?”

 

 _holy shit._ richie didn’t know eddie. richie didn’t know about his ruthless title of “gayest _tranny_ in school” (redundant and all around dumb). _richie didn’t fucking know._

 

and he really couldn’t stop the elation bubbling in his lungs. eddie just might have a fucking chance with him. he wouldn’t let himself think that for more than a moment, but it was there. and that sucked, because he had learned the hard way that hope was stupid and fleeting and only ends in disappointment.

 

“i miss a lot. look, i’m really not into the whole pity thing, so…” the words left his mouth with no real connection to what he was thinking, but he couldn’t let richie get close to him. because then he would fucking learn _how dirty eddie was and what he liked to wear at night and all the unnatural things he is._

 

“i’m not pitying you. look, me and a couple of my friends are heading to the quarry after school. come if you wanna, don’t come if you don’t. just know that we all really want you there, m’dude,” richie looked him in the eyes the whole while he was speaking, and he was telling the truth, but eddie wasn’t going to believe it. he couldn’t let himself. “and, just so you know, i’m richie.”

 

“i don’t think i’ll be there. my mom is crazy,” sonia kaspbrak really was really not that bad. in fact, she was pretty chill with the whole mental health situation. she didn’t take him to therapy, but when he couldn’t leave to go to school, he would shake his head and then she would nod, shut off the lights, and leave him alone for the day. she would bring him lunch and dinner, and then take down the half eaten soup and salad at midnight. she wasn’t the worst possible situation he could’ve had, that was for sure. “and i’m eddie.”

 

“don’t worry eds, i’ll get her to let you go. just give me an hour and a pack of condoms, she’ll be fine if you ran off to mars.” eddie liked the name eds. no one but his mother ever cared enough to give him a nickname. it made that bittersweet elation come to life in his lungs once more (not that it ever died). the mom joke soured it a little though.

 

“first of all, ew.” richie smiled bashfully, a look so far from everything eddie thought him to be it threw him for a loop. “s-second of all, i make no promises.”

 

“third of all, you’re coming, fartwad.” eddie held down a smile.

 

“fartwad? what are you, five?”

 

“five inches.” richie _fucking winked_ , and eddie couldn’t help but look amused and aghast, all at once. his neck was warm, and eddie could tell it was red and splotchy. “hey, you’re blushing! that’s fucking adorable.”

 

“i will not hesitate to slap you across the face.”

 

“can you slap me across the dick?”

 

“jesus christ, do you ever stop?” eddie would never admit it, but this was the happiest he’d been since he first did his own makeup (with it actually looking good).

 

“no. which will be even further proven when you come to the quarry with me, stan the man, molly ringwald, haystack, and micycle. because you are going, and you have no choice. clothing, however, is optional.” and there was that smirk again, making promises to eddie that he knew richie wouldn’t keep, feeding him lies, telling him that there are people who care.

 

trust was not a word in eddie’s personal dictionary.

 

“i’ll think about it. the coming to the quarry bit, not the ‘optional clothing’ bit. i’m not going anywhere naked.” with that, the widest grin humanly possible spread across richie’s face, and his eyes lit up with the power of 1,000 cities. eddie couldn’t help but smile a bit himself.

 

“victory!” richie stood up, and started dancing. he looked like the biggest fucking dork on this planet earth.

 

“shut the fuck up, richie. you buffoon.” eddie rolled his eyes.

 

“be there or be square, eds.”

 

and with that, eddie was alone again.

 

he sat on the ceramic floor, pulling his knees to his chest, hiding his red face, though there wasn’t anyone with him. where richie busting in and trying to help lifted his spirits a little, the pit was pulling on his skin, making it crawl and just make everything feel wrong. his body wasn’t _correct._ suddenly, his chest was too flat, his crotch was a pathetic excuse for a body part, and all comfort richie left in his wake was gone. but beyond that, he was fucking petrified.

 

he still didn’t know if he was going to go. there was a tiny, nagging voice at the back of his head that told him that _this was a fucking prank, you dumbfuck. do you seriously think people wanna spend time with you? that’s fucking naïve. you’re annoying, stupid, paranoid, and just an all around buzzkill. and you’ve fucking seen their group in the hallway. they’re fine as is, they don’t need a fucking extra. because that’s all you are. an add-on. the one to round it out, make it into an even number. stop fucking pretending you’re worth saving._

 

but at the same time, there was another voice, gentler that the first one, saying that _maybe it won’t be terrible. maybe they actually want you there. maybe you can finally make some friends._

 

and then the images of richie telling him he should go flashed through his head. as much as eddie hated to admit it, that tipped the scales significantly in his direction.

 

but eddie didn’t fucking know what he would feel at the end of the day. so honestly, it was future eddie’s problem. fuck that guy.

 

for now, he just had to try and handle leaving the bathroom.


	2. ‘panic disorder’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddie kaspbrak isn’t normal.

eddie kaspbrak was seven when he first started to figure out that he wasn’t normal. 

 

he had always been shy, always reluctant to speak up. he seldom raised his hand in class, favouring sitting in the back, silent, reading. instead of playing with the other kids at recess, he would sit by the bench, playing with chalk on the asphalt. 

 

one day, during the middle of recess, he was watching some kids play hopscotch a few yards in front of him. they were laughing, smiling, and having fun; everything eddie had never done before. 

 

up until that point, eddie had no problem being alone. when he was alone, he could think properly, he could move. when eddie was alone, he could breathe. 

 

but when he was watching those kids, being as happy as they could be, something changed. 

 

one girl, betty, looked over at eddie, seemingly staring at her, and scrunched her face up in disgust. 

 

and suddenly, there was a feeling in his chest. he could feel his heart racing, and how his throat caught on fire. his brain was screaming, his body was frozen. he felt like throwing up, crying, and burying himself in a hole. he felt exhausted, and like he was ready to run a marathon. he felt the most afraid he’d ever been. 

 

his body was acting without his brains permission. he was running. running as fast as his legs could take him, running to the bathroom in the nurse's office. he got there, and he puked. after that was done, he was speaking without his brain’s permission, sobbing out how he couldn’t breath and his throat was on fire and how he was  _ so scared _ .

 

and then the nurse called his mom. she picked him up, and they were at the pharmacy. she put a plastic object in his hand, and told him it was to help him breathe. they got in the car again, and then they were home. he went up to his bedroom, refused dinner, and fell asleep. 

 

the next time he got the hint that he wasn’t like other kids was in 7th grade. 

 

eddie, freshly friendless and seemingly endlessly sad, was almost naked, staring at his reflection in his full body mirror. 

 

he’d been doing this for a while, calling it “modesty hour”. it was when he’d look at himself, and point out every flaw he could find. it took much longer than an hour. 

 

his arms were too skinny to be masculine, his face too square to be feminine. his stomach folded out in a gross way, and his thighs were a fucking mess. he sat too girly, and ate too manly. he honestly couldn’t name one thing he liked about himself. 

 

he almost never spoke anymore. 

 

the only words he said were “yes, ma.” and “no, ma.” and even then, those weren’t often. 

 

he would often get yelled at by teachers for not speaking when he got called on, and he took it all with a tight jaw and clenched fists.  _ i deserve this _ . 

 

there was almost constantly a hole at the bottom of his stomach, something he named “the pit”. it took all his will, strength, and happiness away from him. it drained him of all he was. 

 

gym class was a fucking nightmare. 

 

he was never really that athletic, and having to excercise when he got winded so easily was  _ mortifying.  _ that, and showing a body he hated to people he hated was a practice he despised. he usually was turned to his locker, so at least he didn’t have to  _ see  _ the look of disgust on their faces, just like that of betty ripsom’s back in third. 

 

and to top it all off? eddie  _ knew  _ he wasn’t a boy. or at least something of the sort. eddie knew that some days, being called a boy made him ultra fucking uncomfortable, but some days it was natural. it was eddie that day. those were the days he liked the best. 

 

today, as eddie stared at himself, he knew he was a boy. so at least one thing was kinda okay. 

 

as eddie looked at himself with the most critical eye there was, he found something. and it really should not have scared him as much as it did. on the top of his thigh were stretch marks. 

 

he couldn’t tell if it was from growing or his thighs were getting bigger, but they were signs that the world was changing,  _ he  _ was changing, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. he couldn’t breathe, so he took his inhaler. 1, 2, 3. it didn’t work. now his whole body was shaking, and his mind was racing, but he still couldn’t think. words popping up in his head were only there for a split second, and that made him feel fucking  _ stupid,  _ so he started crying. and then he was on the floor next to his bed, and he could hear screaming, and he didn’t know where it was coming from; his mom, or him. he then got picked up bridal style, and was moved around. he thrashed and shook, begging for something to end this. his blood was pounding and he  _ couldn’t fucking hear or speak or do anything but wait for this to end. _

 

he woke up, in a room he didn’t recognize. he hadn’t even realised he fell asleep. the place was white, and the stench rubbing alcohol penetrated his lungs.  _ the hospital.  _ duh. his mom found him, and took him to a hospital. on his right were doctors and his mother, talking. on his left was the window, making the room too fucking bright. 

 

one of the doctors talking to his mother saw he was awake, and said something to his mother and the other doctor and walked over. 

 

“hello, edward kaspbrak, i’m doctor jacobs.” she said. she looked over to his mother, and then back at him. “so there’s no way to properly keep it from you, but is appears you’ve developed a panic disorder.” ice filled his veins. they taught the very basics of mental health disorders in health class, and panic disorders were something briefly covered in class. while the teacher was going over them, one of the students asked “aren’t ‘panic disorders’ just a fancy word for oversensitive nutjobs?” and the class  _ laughed  _ in reply. the teacher corrected her, saying “no, greta. it’s a recognised mental disorder.” but still. everyone laughed. just like he always imagined them laughing at him. he didn’t have to imagine anymore, they already fucking  _ had.  _

 

“are you serious?” 

 

“yes. your mother told us how you’ve been acting lately, and how a few of these types of episodes have happened in the past. dr. benson is currently explaining to your mom therapy and other possible solutions to your mother right now.” she gestured towards the other two. his mom was crying. 

 

eddie knew his mom. she was  _ never  _ gonna agree to therapy. conversion therapy, maybe. 

 

that night, eddie went home, and cried into his pillow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup bro nachos how yall doin tonight
> 
> okay so. first,, THANK YOU GUYS for the support on the first chapter. i literally almost cried from happiness. 
> 
> second„, this story is gonna flip between the past and the present every other chap, in case you hadn’t noticed 
> 
> thank u bitches for reading this. it makes me v happy my lovelies <3


	3. the quarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mike and eddie bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO
> 
> i have multiple explainations for why this is so late  
> •i started at a new school  
> •i got really into marvel and spent a whole week watching all of them in order (including iw. i cried)  
> • i have depression  
> • i’m lazy
> 
> i hope yall can forgive me for being a piece of shit lol

eddie kaspbrak was a fucking ninja.

 

somehow, he managed to hide in the bathroom until the end of the day, hiding on top of the toilet seat whenever someone came in (that was rare, nobody fucking uses school bathrooms unless emergencies), and playing mindless mobile games to help disassociate at all other times. he wasn’t going back to class if someone fucking paid him.

 

and when the end of the day came around, he still successfully avoided all other people by waiting a half an hour until he was sure nobody was in the hallways, then waiting another fifteen minutes until he saw no one in the courtyard, and then walking to his bike. people suck ass and talking to them is worse.

 

the only fucking problem with that plan was that eddie didn’t factor richie being a persistent asshole into the equation.

 

when eddie’s bike was in his peripheral from the steps, he saw five people standing around it. stanley, mike, beverly, ben, and that beanstalk of a human being with glasses the size of human midgets. immediately, he froze. maybe he could run home? the fuckton of adreniline in his system right now would definitely make that a possibility (and one he would most likely take).

 

unfortunately, the fucking midget glasses made him awfully perceptive, so richie spotted eddie as soon as the brilliant plan formed in his head.

 

“HEY EDS! I’M OVER HERE!” richie was waving his arms around frantically, in attempts to get eddie to see him. eddie turned his head, and the whole group was looking at him now.

 

“I NOTICED.” eddie shouted back. well, his life was already basically fucking ruined. the five looking at him was making eddie suffocate and drown.

 

given that he was already in hell, he might as well go to the fucking quarry. can’t get much worse than being screamed at, having blended fruit thrown at you, getting called multiple slurs, having an earth shattering panic attack, and getting pitied by an attractive fuck in a disgusting school bathroom, all in one day. eddie walked down the steps and over to the group.

 

“hola eds, you comin with?” richie was balancing on the balls of his heels. stan gestured towards himself and the other three. “oh wait! this is staniel, bevathey, benington, and micycle.” he pointed at each respective person, and they each waved kindly (except stan, who rolled his eyes and then waved). “and this, my dudes, is eddison the great. he likes romance, long walks on the beach, and candlelit dinners. what a catch, ladies and gentleman.” eddie just gave him the finger, making richie smile.

 

“call me eddie, and nothing he says is my name.” eddie started rubbing his knuckle into his palm, a nervous tick he had developed a long ass while ago. “and sure, i’ll come. why not.”

 

richie, the boisterous fuck he is, clapped his hands and started talking in a (bad) australian accent. “well lookie ‘ere! little eds is gonna go on an advent’cha!” he wrapped his arms around mike and bev, bringing the two closer to him, and kissing both their heads. “shall we get going then?”

 

eddie’d been to the quarry once, when he was 5. his mother had taken him here just after his father's death.

 

he remembered so little that the memory might as well have not been there, but the sight of a silent, tear-stained sonia kaspbrak was one he wouldn’t forget. call his mother anything you want, but she had not been a silent woman.

 

on the ride there, the image persisted in his mind. the edges were blurred, like that memory was just a dream. back then he hoped it was, but his father never came back, and his mother was quieter.

 

“okay fuckers, we’re here!” somewhere way beyond eddie’s bike, richie was shouting his lungs out. that seemed to be his only way of communication, from what eddie’d seen. it was an odd mix of fucking annoying and endearing. he hated it.

 

they got to the top, and eddie felt something in the deepest recesses of his stomach. and it wasn’t the pit, which was strange as fuck.

 

it was peace.

 

the wind was like silk, and the sunlight ignited a beautiful feeling in his heart. just for a moment, the world was perfect. _words cannot describe how much i love right now._

 

but then that dumbfuck of a human started taking off his goddamn shirt and eddie’s peace was fucking shattered.

 

it really was annoying how attractive richie was. it honestly fit so well with his personality. annoying, hot, and it makes eddie wanna fucking strangle him.

 

“what the fuck are you doing?” eddie looked around. mike was pants-less, stan was halfway through taking off his shirt, and bev was only in her bra and underwear. ben was the only one dressed the same amount as eddie.

 

“we’re gonna jump off, eddie. aren’t you?” beverly turned around, hands on hips. like she had nothing to hide. eddie’d never felt more jealous of a person in his life.

 

panic and bile raised in his throat. eddie just thought they would sit at the top. there was no way he would jump off.

 

“u-uh, i don’t think i will. thanks though.” eddie crossed his arms over his stomach self consciously, desperate to hide the body he taught himself to be ashamed of. “i think i have to go to the bathroom. e-excuse me.”

 

eddie tried his best to walk, not run, away. he ended up in an awkward speedrun, staring at the ground and wondering why the fuck he couldn’t just strip, couldn’t be normal.

 

eventually he was somewhere close to where they left their bikes, and he took a left into the woods. being alone was easier. why couldn’t he just always be left alone? let’s face it, he’s a lost cause. at the end of the day, he’ll still have a stupid fucking panic disorder, he’ll still be an outcast, he’ll still be a _tranny_ and a _fag_. no matter how hard people try to fix him, he’ll still be gross and worthless and the world would be better off if he died.

 

and so eddie sat, back laid against a tree, and cried.

 

he had been out there for a good ten minutes when he could hear footfalls and a masculine voice calling his name. he tried to be quiet, discreet, but eventually he was still found.

 

he looked up, and found the football star himself — mike hanlon.

 

mike was a good 5”11’, maybe 6”, but either way he made eddie look and sound like fucking minnie mouse. from what eddie’d seen, mike was the sweetest guy in history. he helped people, and always tried to make lives better. it was kinda annoying. eddie honestly just thought it was a ploy from the vice principal or something to make the football team look better, so they could sell more tickets or whatever.

 

“hey, eddie. you okay?” mike was almost squatting, trying to get down to where eddie was. it didn’t really sit right in eddie’s stomach.

 

“just fucking peachy, actually. can’t you tell?” eddie twisted his head, eyes squinting.

 

mike looked somewhat upset by this. good. all the more reason for him to give up on eddie like he should.

 

but apparently, nobody was understanding that getting close to eddie would only hurt everyone, he was just gonna end up fucking killing himself anyway.

 

“sorry, you just kinda ran away. rich wanted to come but i insisted that i went so he could have fun. i wanted to make sure you’re okay, plus i wanted to get to know you a little better. you seem pretty cool.” mike looked genuine, and eddie was getting fucking angry.

 

the lightning storm bubbled in his stomach. his mind glazed over, and he started talking before he could stop.

 

“oh, okay. you really wanna fucking know me? when i was five, my father died. when i was six, my mom started feeding me pills. when i was 14, i learned that they were just fucking gazebos and she was just trying to keep me under her fucking wing so i never ran away like i always wanted to but never could because she caught me having a goddamn panic attack and sent me to the doctor and apparently i have a fucking mental disorder.” eddie realised he was saying too much, but after fucking years of holding this all back, the floodgates were open and he couldn't stop them.

 

“the next day, we went to five different doctors who all said my behaviour was ‘consistent with social anxiety’.” eddie’s breathing was laboured, and his eyes were watering. “you really wanna fucking know me? at night, i-“ eddie started sobbing again. he fucked up. he’s said more than he should’ve. he hid his face in his arms, just wishing for this to end. for eddie to end. he curled up even more, holding himself tighter and tighter and tighter and trying his hardest to hold back his tears, to silence himself.

 

in that one second, everything was silent. the only thing anyone could hear was the distant laughs of richie, bev, ben, and stan, and the quiet cries of despair from eddie.

 

“eddie,” mike put his hand on eddie’s shoulder. he flinched, and mike took his hand away. “i have depression.” eddie didn’t look up, but his eyes opened. he didn’t even realise they were closed.

 

“when i was 4, my parents got caught in a fire. my dad was having a cigarette and forgot to put it out before throwing it on the rug.” mike’s breath was shaky. “i was the only one alive, in the end.” eddie felt a trembling hand bring placed on his shoulder, and suddenly he felt a little more grounded; like his soul wasn’t in space anymore. “honestly? i still haven’t forgiven him for killing himself and mom. i still wish i was the one who got caught in the fire. i still wish i hadn’t smelled the smoke.”

 

eddie finally looked up. mike’s eyes were tracing the lines of a nearby tree, looking into every detail, his eyes laced with tears and a visceral fear that eddie himself felt pretty much everyday, and in that moment he knew that mike was being honest. maybe, just maybe, eddie wouldn’t taint him with touch. and so he lifted his arm and put his hand over mike’s. neither one of them looked at each other, both stuck in their own head.

 

mike took a deep breath. “what i mean is,” he looked at the ground, finding the right words. “you’re not alone in this. i know promises probably mean nothing to you, but i can swear on my life that you’re not alone. and it’s not just me, either.” eddie looked up at mike, confusion etched onto his face. mike laughed humourlessly. “everyone out there has been through some shit. i mean, i can’t tell you what shit, but it’s deep down in the Spectrum of Bullshit.”

 

mike stood up, and looked down at eddie. “you think you’re ready to go?”

 

“yeah, i think.” mike offered a hand to eddie, and he took it. damn, mike was tall. he literally made eddie look like hermes from _rudolf_.

 

“you ready to jump?”

 

“yeah, mike. i’m pretty sure i’m ready.”

 

“i hope you know i will destroy you in chicken.”

 

“oh, you’re on.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. the tainting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of the quarry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK YOU THOTS I CAME BACK QUICKER THAN YALL EXPECTED OF ME SUCK IT. 
> 
> anyway this was edited by the Lovely irl mcbinch named annie. what an Angel (jk she smells lol)
> 
> i made things go a little Quicker than i originally planned oops lol

 

eddie kaspbrak was, in fact, destroyed by mike hanlon in chicken.

 

it really was unfair. mike was bigger than him in every way, plus he fuckin played football and actually _knew_ how to take someone down (also eddie kept getting distracted by how attractive richie was but _fuck you_ ).

 

but it was fun. eddie had fun. for the first time since bill left, eddie had fun with other people.

 

looking back, eddie couldn’t believe he’d let bill denbrough take away everything but moments of happiness when he caught eddie that night.

 

but dwelling on dumb big bill made the pit start to form again, and eddie wanted to hold onto this one night for as long as he could. he knew it’d get tainted when he was trying to go to sleep, and then it’d be ruined forever. for right now, though, he just wanted something good.

 

they ended up staying until sunset, and that meant something in spring.

 

as he rode home with ben (their houses were in the same direction), a smile was tattooed on his face. this was the happiest he’d been in fucking years.

 

his mom was upset when he came home late. _oh well_ , eddie thought. _oh well._ he put her to bed after more of her grumbling and the moment she hit the sheets she was out.

 

when he got to his room, he closed and locked the door and got out the bag of makeup he kept in a shoebox in a small toy box in a medium cardboard box that he kept under his bed. paranoia, my friends.

 

he did his face according to his mood. a sunset fade from blue to yellow and a big cateye and bright red lipstick. he didn’t contour, because he didn’t have _time_ to be ashamed of his facial shape when he was so fucking happy. he put on a pale yellow sleep shirt with the words “maybe i just don’t like you” printed on the front and a high waisted maroon skirt and in that one moment, he felt perfect.

 

then the doorbell rang.

 

maybe he felt too pleased with himself to undo anything, or maybe he just forgot, but he ran down the stairs in his feminine getup and opened the door to the one and only richie tozier.

 

he slammed it immediately.

 

he began knocking incessantly.

 

eddie gathered his breath, stared at the door for a moment, and opened it again.

 

and then… he fell in. literally. richard motherfucking tozier fell into edward goddamn kaspbrak’s house because he was knocking too hard.

 

was this real life? was eddie in a coma? what the fuck was happening?

 

eddie fucking felt drunk from confusion.

 

“jesus fucking shitballs, that fuckin hurt.” rich rolled over so he was facing the ceiling, offering a lazy smile to eddie. he hated the way it brought back the Stomach Thing. “ya look great.”

 

oh right, eddie was dressed like a girl. almost forgot.

 

a million thoughts were entering his head and leaving as quickly as they came. he couldn’t get a handle on them.

 

though this wasn’t the panic, he didn’t feel the bile rising in his throat. he was just… fucking confused.

 

then, out of nowhere (not really), eddie’s mind froze. his heartbeat was stuck in a moment, and his eyes could only focus on the way richie’s hair looked spread over the carpet, the way his buck teeth shined in the hall light, the way that when he fell, his shirt rode a little above the waistline of his jeans and _jesus fuck eddie, get a fucking hold of yourself._

 

of course, none of this was said out loud.

 

instead, he said; “how the fuck did you know where i live?”

 

a fair question, if you ask me.

 

“uncle ben told me.” okay, so that was a good sign. at least he wasn’t a stalker. as far as eddie knew.

 

“why are you here at,” eddie looked at the clock. “12:46?” once again, a fair question.

 

“i want you to do my nails.” richie hopped up, dusting off his jeans, and smiled at eddie in a way that made his heart melt and mind run with suspicion on how bizarre it was that this asshole he met _today_ could make him feel like this. it was dumb. eddie was dumb for falling in like so quickly. what the fuck.

 

“you came all the way here… for nail polish?”

 

“yup!”

 

“couldn’t you just buy some?”

 

“nope!”

 

_“why?”_

 

“m’dad’s a homophobic twatwaffle.”

 

“okay then.” eddie wasn’t gonna dispute that point. “i mean, same.”

 

“your dad’s a piece of shit too?”

 

“no, my mom. though my dad might’ve been, i don’t know. haven’t seen him since i was five. died o’ cancer.” eddie shrugged and leaned off to one side of his hip.

 

“oh shit fam, sorry bout that.”

 

“don’t worry shrek, i’ve moved on.”

 

“shrek?”

 

“you kinda look like shrek.”

 

“i would get offended, but honestly that’s true.” richie smiled at him in That Way again. _goddamnit richard,_ eddie thought, _stop being so fucking easy to fall for. it’s annoying._

 

“anyway, nail polish?”

 

“indeed, m’good fellow!” wow, richie _really_ couldn't do english accents. it was kinda impressive how bad they were.

 

eddie let forth a small smile, and richie’s only grew brighter. _correlation is not causation_ , eddie had to remind himself. The Stomach Thing was acting up again.

 

“well, follow me then, i guess.”

 

eddie couldn’t explain why he let richie into his room. something deep inside him made him want to trust richie, made him want to let him into his life. there was a need, deep inside his heart, that made him want to be as close to richie as possible. something inside his soul just felt _right_ in richie’s presence. he felt like he’d known richie for 1000 years.

 

maybe they’ve met before, in another life.

 

eddie, before he taught himself that he was always in danger (and even after, on his good days) was a hopeless romantic. he always pictured himself with a feeling of overwhelming affection, always saw himself with someone who he’d die for. bodiless hands bringing him soup when he was sick, a disconnected smile the shined brighter than the moon, and a glimmer in a fictional eye that brought him home; every time.

 

someone to hold him post nightmare, someone to look at who’d look back without a hint of his mother's malice, someone to make him feel _okay_ and _human_ and like everything good in the universe combined.

 

at some point, those eyes turned hazel and the smile earned buck teeth, the glimmer was brought out and magnetised by something thick and black lining it, and the hands gained calluses and ling fingers. slowly, without eddie ever noticing, the face he dreamed of turned to the boy he let into his room that night.

 

somehow, without realising it, eddie fell for richie before even knowing him.

 

“so, this is my room.” eddie’s room was immaculate. he wouldn’t settle for less, plus a dirty room made him more stressed than he already was.

 

from the door, his bed was next to where the left wall met the back wall, his dresser and closet directly next to it. on the right wall is where a vanity desk was kept, and where all his makeup was currently out and his nail polish was. the overall room was painted a warm beige with hardwood flooring. his room really wasn’t much.

 

however, richie seemed floored that _this is where eddie slept_.

 

“woah… it’s so fucking clean in here!” he immediately went to the bed, sitting on the edge and looking at his reflection in the vanity across the room. he was smiling like he always was, big and bright. eddie’d never met someone with such an endless capacity for smiling. it was honestly quite bizarre.

 

“i mean, yeah. i like clean things.” eddie shrugged his shoulders. “which really makes it weird that i’m hanging out with you.” richie guffawed.

 

“you and stanathon would LOVE each other. you’re both neat freaks with a neurological need to make fun of me. i live for it.” he bounced energetically on the bed.

 

eddie had a thing about open doors, so he closed his bedroom door as he walked over to his vanity. richie took this exactly the way you’re expecting him to take it.

 

“woah there, edward spagheddward. we just met today.” his lazy smile and choice of words made that dumb Stomach Thing flare up again for the millionth time that night. “are you sure you’re ready to take this step?”

 

speaking of things getting ignited.

 

eddie rolled his eyes, blatantly ignoring the heat in his neck and dumbass downward area. “fuck off. do you want me to do your nails or not?”

 

“could you also do my makeup?” richie asked, putting out his bottom lip and turning his eyes downward. he looked like a puppy, and eddie was putty in his hands. “pwease?”

 

“fine, dickweed.”

 

immediately, richie smiled again. eddie smiled, too.

 

eddie grabbed the maroon he still had on some nails, and brought it over to richie. he started painting them flawlessly.

 

richie talked throughout the entire process. dumb things, like, “do you think the musical hairspray is about the manufacturing of hairspray? i haven’t seen it.” and “when i die, i want a viking funeral but one where you ditch the boat and just heave my body into the water and chant a satanic ritual so i possess stan.” and can’t forget “i have a personal vendetta against the colour indigo. fuck indigo, man. what a shit colour.”

 

eddie had to keep from laughing so hard he messed up his nails.

 

“you’re the best.”

 

“i’m really not, rich.”

 

“yes, you are.”

 

“no, i’m not.”

 

“yes you are!”

 

“richie! i’m not…” eddie struggled to even let the word out. “the best, or anything close. if you want that, then i guess you’re screwed with me.” eddie hugged his chest and looked at the ground, because richie looked confused and disoriented at the thought of eddie not loving himself.

 

“eds, i haven’t even known you for a day and i can easily say that you’re in, like, my top five people ever.” as richie spoke, he reached out for his hands. eddie let him take them, because right then eddie would’ve killed someone for richie.

 

_goddamnit._

 

richie put his hand under eddie’s chin, making him look up. there was something pure in his eyes that made eddie feel The Stomach Thing times 10.

 

“you’re kinda perfect, eds.”

 

one of them did something, and then they kissed.

 

and jesus fuck, did eddie feel perfect.

 

that only lasted for a second, though, before rich pulled away and his stupid fantasy came crashing down. “you better get to sleep, eds.”

 

“yeah.”

 

they stayed in that moment for an eternity before rich gave him another peck and got up.

 

“i guess i have to ride home now.”

 

“yeah.” eddie got up too.

 

richie kissed him then, so sweet that eddie thought he might get a cavity.

 

soon after that, rich finally left.

 

that night, the quarry didn’t get tainted. instead, eddie fell asleep to the taste of spring nights and a hopeful dream of the days with richie to come.

**Author's Note:**

> HOLA FUCKWADS IM BACK 
> 
> okay so„ just wanna clarify something. the reason that eddie uses male pronouns here is because good ol’ sonia is super fucking stingy with the internet, so he has never been introduced to gender fluidity. he will not learn for a while, so bare with me my bro nachos. i have a lot of fucking plans for this story


End file.
